


Brightest Darkness and Darkest Light

by Corvid_Knight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, NOT SHIP. NO SHIP HERE., Weird family dynamics, bro is the angel and d is the demon, goodomenstuck, idk man i just liked the idea of fucking with the expected order for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:02:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: An angel and a demon have been assigned to play human so they can watch over a baby. Well, two babies. Sort of explains why the powers that be sent two representatives...but not really why they sent these specific two.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

Neither of you know what you're doing, the first visit up. (Although you guess that for your opposite number, it's technically a visit _down._ Wonder if he finds it as much of a culture shock as you do?) It's probably a good thing that recon doesn't involve being corporeal, because you're pretty sure you'd fuck it up, and not in a cool, demonic way. 

Even if he's not corporeal, the angel's making an effort to look human from the moment the two of you wisp into the attorney's office. Kind of stupid in your opinion, since you're the only one who can see him and _you_ sure don't give a fuck. Like sure, you're as into a hot dude as any other darkside servant, but this is an _angel._ This is an angel that you're supposed to be _working_ with. This is an angel who's going to be posing as your _brother_, once you get a good look at the baby you're supposed to be watching over. 

Oh shit. 

Not "a baby," now that you look a lil' closer. "Babies." As in, two squirming bundles of carseat-confined joy. You didn't sign up for two babies. 

(Technically you didn't even sign up for one. Assignments are given with what seems like randomness but probaby isn't. Far be it from you to second guess either your boss or the angel's, but you're _seriously_ wondering about this one.) 

Speaking of the angel, he's kneeling down beside the baby carry containers, spinning his finger in front of a pair of fascinated red eyes. Is that normal for humans? You don't think that's normal for humans. 

_You know you can't touch them yet, right?_

_Fuck off, Beez._ He doesn't look up at you as he suggests it, which makes you wonder if he's actually aiming it at you at all. Then again, you're the only one who can even see him here, let alone hear him. 

_Not very angelic of you,_ you point out dryly. The other baby makes a little snuffling sound, and you decide that you might as well hunker down next to your opposite number and make some faces at the lil' dude, see if that calms him down. His eyes are a color that you tenatively identify as tangerine, which is also not an approved human eye color. _Who the heck is bees?_

The angel snorts soundlessly and gives you an amused side-eye, letting you see that his eyes are a deep shade of amber. You wonder if the powers that be are going to let him keep those when they give him a body. You wonder what color your eyes are. 

_'bout the same color as half-dry blood._ The orange-eyed angel nods at the baby trying to grasp his finger. _Darker'n his, though. It's Beez, not bees—y'know, Beelzebub?_

Oh. Huh. _Thanks for the compliment?_

_Holy shit. I get the one who's too dumb to know it's being insulted._

Oh. Shit. _Fuck you, featherbrain._

_Do you see wings here? Huh?_ He rolls his eyes and turns to show his back to you, an admission of trust that'd be stunning if it didn't also serve to show off the sword strapped between his shoulderblades and under the styled golden hair. 

_No fair, I want one of those!_

_You have one._ When you just blink at him in disbelief, the angel rolls his eyes again, one hand darting past your face to grab something behind your shoulder, tugging gently. It still puts you almost off balance; the thing's gotta be at least as long as his. 

_Holy fuck?_ Oh you can't _not_ draw that. Well, maybe you can not draw it; something about the angles make it apparently impossible to just, y'know, pull it out. You feel kind of like a cat chasing its tail. Or is it dogs that do that? Wait, no, maybe it's horses. You know that humans have some kind of saying about horses. 

_Fuckin' hell, you never shut up, do you?_

You weren't aware you were directing any of that at him. Shows how much you know. 

_Glad to hear you agree you're a dumbass. Turn around, Beez._

Oh for fuck's sake. On one hand you'd love to be that important, but on the other? Now that you're aware that he's being an ass, it kind of rubs you the wrong way. Plus, like, why the fuck can he swear? Aren't angels supposed to be paragons of virtue? Not that you've ever had the pleasure to work with one before—yeah, sure, the Light and the Dark are two sides of the same coin and they have to pair up and work together a lot of the time, but that's not your style. You're supposed to be visiting humans in dreams, talking them into doing shit that their authority figure doesn't want them to do. Like, you should be sitting in some kid's dreamscape right now, explaining that their mom or dad or whoever the fuck is lying when they say that the only way to survive is to cooperate, you should be _helping_ people— 

_For somebody all wound up in stereotypes, you're kinda a shitty excuse for a demon._ The angel reaches over and grabs your shoulder, tugging until you let yourself be turned; then he reaches out with his free hand and unsnaps something. _Shit's got a lock to keep it from slippin' out, see?_

Technically, you do not see, but when you try to pull the sword out again it slides free with a satisfying whisper of metal on leather. Oh hell fucking yes, yours is _totally_ bigger than his. 

_Way to make this a dick-measuring contest, Beez._

_I don't have a dick and neither do you._

_Oh shit. Wonder if they're gonna leave it that way when we get bodies?_

You kind of wonder that too, but you guess you're just going to have to wait and see.


	2. Chapter 2

The powers that be drop the two of you in some kind of cafe, or something. Whatever it is, there's already drinks waiting for you and for the demon, paid for and ready to be handed over. 

You see the demon eyeing the girl at the counter—five eleven, emerald eyes that're shocking against her dark skin, fluffy hair bleached not quite as light as yours and pulled back in a ponytail that reminds you of a cloud—and shift your drink from your left hand to your right, snagging the collar of his black t-shirt to haul him over to one of the booths. It's easier than you expected, maybe because he's unduly concerned with keeping his drink from spilling. 

"Hey!" He complains for a second when you dump him in a seat, but settles down again as you take the spot opposite him. As he shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, you decide to follow suit, which means both of you make identical grimaces of disgust in near-perfect harmony. "Dear _lord_ that's bitter—" 

"Mine's sweet as fuck." 

"Lucky." 

"Wanna trade?" You're not really expecting the demon to accept anything that you've blessed with your touch (and no. That's not a thing, at least not for you) but he instantly brightens at the suggestion, sliding his cup across the table and making lil' grabby-hands motions at you until you roll your eyes behind the sharp-edged shades that the powers that be saw fit to outfit you with and slide your cup over to him. 

Again, his sigh of satisfaction is damn near perfectly in tune with yours. Dude just melts as he takes a deep drink of the sweet, creamy abomination that you just handed over, performing the first demonic action you've seen from him as he arranges himself like the plain wooden chair's something rich and upholstered, somehow managing to ooze decadance from every inch of skin as he pushes his shades up to rest in near-white hair. "...bro." 

"What." 

"Didn't know you could smile, is all." The demon laughs as you rearrange your face to suggest that you are not, in fact, capable of anything like that. "Hey, aren't we supposed to have names?" 

"Eventually." 

"No, not _eventually—_we gotta get our story straight before we go pitch it to Lalonde, and that's kinda important now, right? Not like we can keep an eye on the twins without getting caught anymore, right?" 

...he's right. You hate that. "Dammit." 

"What do you think I should go with? I'm thinking something with like, one syllable, right? That seems like a better idea than the long shit; less to remember and everything. Easy to spell." He cocks his head like a bird, tipping his cup up again and nearly putting one dark red eye out with the straw that's still sticking out of the drink. "Thoughts?" 

"Seems like a logical kind of thinkin'. How about 'Dick,' since you got one now?" You're going to have to work with this guy for years. Maybe you shouldn't be teasing him. (There is no way you're not gonna tease him.) 

The teasing seems to fly right over his head, though, because he considers the suggestion like it's legit, ultimately shaking his head. "Nah. It's false advertising, bro." 

"...what." 

"I don't have a dick." 

"You have to have a dick." 

"No I don't. I don't want a dick." 

"How the hell are you planning on being a human guy without a dick?" 

"Guys don't have to have dicks," he points out reasonably, tipping his drink again and then frowning at it as it refuses to give him any more liquid. "Do you think I can get another one of these?" 

"Pick out a name first, dumbass." You're pretty sure that the plastic card in your pocket will get you as many drinks as you want, and you're almost as sure that he's got one too, but _somebody_ needs to keep this train on the rails. 

The demon slouches down to rest his chin on the table, eyeing you over the plastic rim of his cup. "You first." 

"What?" 

"C'mon, bro, don't be a—" 

"Bro." 

"Yeah? We're gonna tell her we're related anyway, I might as well get into the act now—" 

"No, you dumb fuck, that's my name. 'Bro.'" (You probably shouldn't be choosing something that'll be attatched to you for the remainder of your time on this earth based on mild vindictiveness and impulse, but fuck it.) "You seem to be fine with callin' me that already, so it's fuckin' great." 

The demon stares at you in what looks like disbelief for a couple seconds. Then he fuckin' _giggles._ "Cool, then mine's D." 

"D." 

"Yeah!" 

"Just...D. Like the letter." 

"Yeah, totally." 

"...does it stand for 'dumbass?'" 

Since you're expecting that question to be answered with a projectile, it's easy to catch the empty cup when he hurls it across the table at your head.


	3. Chapter 3

"Let me do the talking," you murmur to Bro as the two of you wait for Lalonde to actually come answer the door. From the side-eye you see him give you, he thinks that's an _awful_ idea, but look. Okay, look. He's an angel, he's not gonna be able to lie all that well, right? You're a demon, you're basically made for this. 

(Never mind that your specialty is gently convincing people of truths that've been covered up. You're totally not thinking about that.) 

"Whatever you say, dude." Oh, good, he agrees with you. Maybe. God you hope the tone you're detecting there isn't sarcasm. It might be sarcasm; you're not all that great at picking up on specific emotions in words yet, and the way he talks sure doesn't help. Maybe he—

The door opens and you hurry up and paint a smile on your face. It's not that hard, really; you've spent most of your mortal existance so far reminding yourself that the woman you're seeing now for the first time is your twin sister, you already love her. Actually that cover story is perfect, now that you do take a look at her; other than the fact that her eyes are a deep and (you think) unusual shade of purple, the two of you _are_ damn near identical. Facial structure, hair color, hair _style_— 

The angel nudges you, probably to get you to quit staring. You pointedly fail to quit staring, and after another moment Reaux Lalonde raises one eyebrow. (Huh. Why aren't her eyebrows white like her hair? Eh, you'll figure that out later, it's kind of not an immediate concern right now.) "I suppose you're D, then." 

"I—yeah, that's me. I sent you an email. And a letter." 

"I'm aware. Claiming to be my twin, correct?" 

"Uh...does it really count as _claiming_ if it's true? Like I'd classify this as a statement, you know? It's—" 

Reaux sighs, pretty violet eyes closing for a moment as one hand comes up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "All right, _informing_ me that you're my twin. I stand corrected." She lowers her hand so she can examine you, tilting her head thoughtfully. "And you've brought your boyfriend. Lovely." 

Okay, so neither you nor Bro actually thought through your cover for showing up together. And yes, maybe playing lovers would be some kind of option, but...no. Just, no. So you and Bro didn't talk about what you were gonna say to that kind of question, and you sure as hell don't _now,_ but you didn't need to—she assumes that, you look at him and he looks at you and both of you make near-identical noises of horrified disgust. 

Reaux actually smiles. "So...no." 

"Oh _fuck_ no," the angel growls, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"He's my brother," you start to explain, and the _he_ in question cuts you off. 

"You think I'd be with this dumbass if it wasn't a fuckin' obligation?" 

"Hey!" Honestly, the fact that he'd totally ditch you if he could kinda hurts. More than _kinda_, maybe. Look, you're really fuckin' good at internalizing your theoretical relationships to people, okay? As far as you're concerned, the angel _is_ your brother, Reaux _is_ your sister, you love them, you get abruptly crushed when Bro says that shit with a straight face. You can't just—

"Oi. D. Earth to D?" Bro nudges you gently, huffing and grabbing your shoulder when you completely and utterly fail to tune back in to the current situation. "C'mon, we're gettin' ditched." 

"Wait, what?" Hey, where did Reaux go? Why is Bro half-dragging you into the house. You're not totally sure you're supposed to be doing this. "Bro—" 

"We gotta talk about you 'n your habit of mental vacations in the middle of shit, dude. _Later,_ though, 'cause you said you were gonna do the fuckin' talkin' here, remember?" That all comes out in a murmur as he guides you down a hall and through a room that you think is maybe a kitchen in the middle of renovation, into _another_ hall and to a room with a table in it. It's got some other things in it, like chairs and a lamp and Reaux, already seated in one of the chairs with her arms folded and her eyes trained expectantly on you. 

Bro nudges you until you sit in one of the remaining chairs, then drags a third around and dumps it next to you, slouching down in it like he'd rather be anywhere else. You don't think this is the right impression to be giving here. 

From the look on her face, Reaux agrees with you. "...are you..._sure_...that we're related." 

"One hundred percent. I'll totally pay for a blood test, if you got doubts." 

"Hm. I mean. You seem to obviously share my genes, honestly. Him—" —she waves one hand at Bro, whose head tilts like he's rolling his eyes behind his shades— "—I'm not so sure about." 

"We ain't related," the angel says. (You try to kick him under the table, and find that you've vastly misjudged where his leg is. The table makes an audible _thud_ as your foot makes contact with it. Holy fuckshit that hurt.) "Like I said, I'm here 'cause he is. Striders stick together." 

"...I see." (You think that's sarcasm. Or maybe irony. You think you like irony, though, so maybe not.) "And you'd be..." 

"His half brother." 

"I meant your name." 

"Bro." Oh, so _that's_ what a smirk looks like. Until you saw it on Bro's face, you couldn't really picture the expression that word connected to. "Guy who filled out my birth certificate had a shitty sense of humor." 

"That's...you know what, we're not getting into that right now." Reaux does that forehead-pinching thing again. You don't think that she even realizes she's doing it, to be quite honest; the movement has something of the unconsious quality that you've seen in the way some of the kids whose dreams you visit fidget with their clothes or bounce their leg against nothing. Stress reaction. You're stressing her, or she was already stressed and you made it worse, and you kind of feel bad for that. "I'm not sure I understood your email, anyway—what exactly were you asking for?" 

"Uh..." Oh, fuck. You probably should have, y'know, actually prepped answers for this kind of question. "I mean, sayin' I'm _asking_ for something is pushing it a little far, I think? Like, technically we want to like, help you—" 

"I feel a _but_ coming." 

"What? No, I'm serious here—" 

"For fuck's sake," Bro mutters next to you. Before you can ask him what the hell his problem is, Reaux's phone goes off; she pulls it out of her pocket and frowns at the screen, then holds up a finger to tell you to hang on and gets to her feet, slipping out of the room. As soon as the door shuts behind her, the angel straightens up and glares at you, orange eyes blazing. "What the _fuck_ are you doing, dude? Gettin' us fuckin' _arrested_?" 

"I'm not—" 

"She totally thinks you're tryin' to scam her, dumbass! Or, what, blackmail her?" 

"Why would I do that?" You're honestly baffled. You're her _brother._

Bro sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, ducking his head down so the brim of his hat's hiding most of his face. "You sure you're a demon? You don't know a shitfucking thing about humans 'n deceit." 

"Are you sure _you're_ an angel? You seem to know a hell of a lot about humans and deceit." That's a fair comeback, right? 

"Gotta recognise it if I'm gonna beat the shit out of assholes for it, D." He tilts his head, and you get a flash of a wry smile. "C'mon, we got another thirty seconds max before she gives up on tryin' to get a straight answer out of my bullshit phone call—" 

"That was you?" 

"Hell yeah it was me, you were gonna get us kicked out! Which we need to _avoid_—" 

Fuck. He's right. You need a way to convince her that you're not here with bad intentions, you—

...actually? You know exactly what to do, even if the angel isn't going to like it. "You can show your wings if you need to, right?" 

"D _fucking_ Strider." Not only does he not like it, you think he might be about to slap you out of your chair. "We're not doing that." 

"C'mon, _I_ can't do it! A demon's ain't gonna convince her, it can't be me that—" 

"Damn straight you're not doing it, neither of us're doing _that_! The powers that be're gonna—" 

"What, you think they'd like it better if we completely fucking failed to get to the twins? Really, Bro?" _Yes._ You can tell he knows you're right by the way he freezes, and you don't hesitate to press further with it. "Trust me, okay? You need to trust me." 

"Big fuckin' mistake." 

Before you can argue that, the door opens again. Reaux doesn't step inside, which you suspect is a bad sign. 

"I'm not doin' it with the door open," Bro points out, reasonably enough. You nod and stand up, wincing as Reaux's eyes narrow. 

"I think this conversation is over," she says, and oh _shit_ you fucked it up. It's over. It's—

Actually, no, because you _are_ a demon, and that _does_ come with perks even if you feel kind of weird about using them without some level of permission. You meet her eyes, blink until the edges of your vision go colorless and wavery, and tell her, "Come in and shut the door." 

And she does. Like you said, perks of being a demon. 

"Tell me why you can't just tell her to cooperate with us again?" 

"Mostly 'cause it only lasts as long as I hold eye contact." (And you're about at your limit for that now, honestly.) "Also, it's kinda a dick move to fuck around in somebody else's head—" 

"Okay, okay. Let her go, then." 

You do that by blinking again and turning your head away, towards him instead. The angel hasn't risen to his feet—if anything, he's slouched down a little further, one hand coming up to tug the brim of that dumbass hat that you almost regret buying for him down so it hides even more of his face—but he's shifted the chair a little. Enough to face Reaux, anyway, and as she opens her mouth to protest your act of mind-control, light flares around the angel. 

It doesn't hurt you, which is kind of a surprise. He's an _angel_, after all, light to your dark; shouldn't being so near the aura that brightens around him, feeling the touch of pale orange feathers as he spreads wings wider than any bird's, wider than anything could possibly be—shouldn't this be painful? Shouldn't you be burned, blinded, _hurt_? 

Because. You're not. 

The awe of that carries you through the moment that Bro flexes his wings and to the other side of it, as he folds them and the light fades. Reaux must feel some of that awe too, because she just stands there with her mouth moving and nothing coming out for long enough that you rally yourself for another try at convincing. 

Except Bro beats you to it. "Still think we got ulterior motives?" he asks, pushing the brim of his hat up again to smirk at her. 

"I...suppose not." Reauz blinks, shakes her head, blinks again, and steps over to drop into what was _your_ chair, pinching her nose again. "The discussion's open again, I think." 

The look Bro gives you as you huff and pull the last empty chair around is _way_ too fuckin' smug for an angel.


End file.
